Ensnared
by Poetoffire
Summary: Before she became the sun, there could only be darkness.  Eugene knows he can't marry Rapunzel until he deals with Flynn's sins, Flynn's wife and the dreams Flynn left behind.
1. Arise fair sun & kill the envious moon

Hey there. I read on one of the forums that someone wanted a dark retelling, and this isn't exactly that, but I couldn't resist once the title popped into my head. This is a multichapter fic that's a sequel of sorts, but a lot darker and more complicated. Basically, this deals with how the people in Tangled became the way they are, slowly revealed through the afterstory.

So here we go.

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**Chapter 1: Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon**

Eugene dug his nails into the rocks, pushing them apart. A chink, finally, and the sun's rays burst in, hitting his still-wet cheek and stinging his eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder and shivered.

"Almost done?" Rapunzel asked.

She still sounded afraid. Of course. Eighteen years of Gothel could do that to a girl, considering the old lady's first familial gesture as his future mother-in-law was slipping a dagger between his ribs. People like that left wounds that couldn't heal with one make-out session.

He'd try again later just to be sure.

He pushed the pile again and his hand burst through. He threw his weight against it and bam, no more rock-door.

Eugene smiled as he helped her out. They were free now. This was the part where he ought to push her up against the ivy-covered tower wall and show her what it really tasted like.

Unfortunately, she hadn't heard the game plan. Rapunzel ran past him, to Gothel's cloak, spread out on the ground. A sob died in her throat, and she reached out, twining her fingers in the fabric. Frantically she raked her hands across it, smoothing the folds and brushing off the dust.

Nonononono. What was he supposed to do? He'd never even had a mother. Sun's teeth, he hadn't even watched a girl cry since—

Why was she humming?

She breathed heavily, then pressed her face to the hood and began to whisper-sing. "Flower gleam and…"

Eugene sprang into action, grabbing her waist, trying to turn her over, lift her up.

"Whoa there, not the best of ideas. Calm down and let's go to the Snuggly Duckling and you can sob about it and I'll let you try beer but let's think for a second here…"

He managed to get her off the cloak and into his lap, but her lips continued to move, tears running down her face and turning gold when they hit her shoulders.

"Shhh, it's okay," he stroked her hair and held her, before it occurred to him that they were sitting on top of her deceased mom. He stood up with a bit of difficulty, helped her down to where they just held each other.

She said something into his shoulder that sounded like "uuaaaaiiiiiiinnnt".

"Pardon?" he asked.

"New…paint," she said, then sniffled again. "She went to…get it…assa gift."

"For your birthday?"

She nodded.

He hugged her a little harder. "It won't make you feel better, but I can get you paint. I'm sure you'll claim a reward for returning the crown from the dastardly thief. We'll go adventuring. She can't hurt us anymore."

"She's…not ebben…"

Rapunzel suddenly turned, looked at the cloak, back at him, put her hands on his shoulders, and smiled through her tears.

He'd probably never get used to those darn mood swings.

"Sorry," she said, and wiped her nose. "I, um, have something to tell you."

"Yes, I'm perfectly aware my dying for you entitles me to the Best Guide In History award."

She giggled. Even with red eyes and nose and the most rush-job haircut known to man, he felt his chest constrict at the sight of her. "No, Eugene, really."

"Okay, shoot."

"I'm the lost princess."

His jaw dropped.

Why on earth did she have to do that all the time? Wasn't he under enough stress as a wanted man and thief extraordinaire without her constant life-altering revelations?

She could probably sense his thoughts withering like ferns in a desert, so her grip on his shoulders tightened.

"I didn't know until mother took me back and then I was so caught up in you not dying I forgot to tell you, I'm sorry, but that handkerchief you gave me helped me figure it out and she knew it too. She stole me from the king and queen."

"So the crown…"

She nodded. "Don't freak—"

"I know, I know, I'm not." Although he was feeling a little bit of a blow to his skill set there. He'd stolen the kingdom's most precious object and immediately returned it to its rightful owner. That made him, like, the worst thief of the _eon_.

"That's good, right?" he asked. "Life of privilege, all the paint you want with none of the guilt trips, family. That's gotta be good."

She nodded. "I knew the lights were for me."

She even looked like a princess now. Something in her eyes. Eugene wiped the last tear from her face, trying not to shiver as it melted into his skin and tingled a little. "That's great. Let's get you home."

Still, a little bit of him still wanted to go adventuring with her. No duties, no destiny. Now she'd have to leave him. He was a catch for a damsel under permanent house arrest, a dream come true and the love of her life. For a courtly lady, a sun-blessed princess, he could be nothing more than a somewhat shady part of her past.

He'd learned that the hard way, and whether he was Flynn Ryder or Eugene Fitzherbert, it still rang true.

"Eugene?" she asked as he helped her onto Maximus. "Are you alright?"

"Okay, you got the brush, pan, frog?"

"Yeah, but Eugene—"

"Relax. I'll get you back to the castle and wallah! New family, new mom with no creepy thing for your hair. Say goodbye to the freaky tower and—"

She laced her fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck and pulled. "Eugene!"

"OW!" Holy mother, were there no other ways to get his attention?

"What's wrong?"

"Well, you yanked my hair," he began, but stopped when he saw her face. She looked genuinely concerned. "It's nothing…Rapunzel. Just, I'm not Mr. Palace Life. I just escaped from the gallows there, so I'll deliver you, but I wanted to spend a little more time together. I mean, after everything…"

He trailed off. The horse was smiling at him, and that meant trouble.

"Did you think I'd go live with my parents while the guards chase you?" She put her arms around his waist and hugged his back. "They pardon you and let you live with us or I won't be a princess."

Anything he was going to say died in his throat. She'd…no one had ever…

For Eugene, at least.

Because, truth be told, neither of him deserved it.

He put his hand over hers. "That's…Rapunzel, I'd love to."

Before the "but" could come, Maximus bolted.

Eugene grabbed at the reins as that sunforsaken horse raced through the woods. "Calm down, boy!" Rapunzel shouted. "What is it?"

The glint of a copper breastplate caught Eugene's eye. "Guards. I know a hiding spot—"

"Please stop, Max," Rapunzel said.

Max stopped.

"Are you crazy?" Eugene jumped off, put a hand out to help her down. "Let's go hide now. I'm a mark that hasn't been checked off their blackest little book. The kingdom does not take well to that, et al. They've probably sent scores."

"Then we'll surrender."

"I already died once today!"

"Trust me," she said, and looking into those green eyes, he didn't have a choice.

The thunder of hooves shook the ground as a battalion grew out of the forest and surrounded them. Eugene threw his hands up. The captain of the guards approached, looked them over.

"It's him. Take them both in."

As they handcuffed him, Rapunzel cleared her throat. "Please don't arrest him before we get to the kingdom. I order you…as the lost princess."

Silence fell on the clearing, and it began to rain. The captain turned to her, gave her a once-over. Please, Eugene prayed. She looked exactly like the princess in all the murals. They had to put him through some sort of training for finding her, right?

"Forgot your blonde wig from yesterday, honeyface," the captain said. "Where did you pick this one up, Ryder? She's one of the closest-looking so far."

"I'm telling the truth!" Rapunzel said, but held out her hands to be shackled anyway. "My hair had the essence of the sun, it lost it today. Take me to the king and queen, please."

The captain ground his teeth together. "I don't have time for this. Put them back on the horse."

As two guards helped her onto Max, Rapunzel raised her hands to the sky. "Please! I've been waiting my whole life for a family! Haven't any of you ever had _dreams_?"

One of the guards raised his hand. "I vote we gag her."

And just like that, they'd escaped the frying pan and now burned in the rain, being led around in the mud by who-knows-how-many soldiers for one last homecoming.

"This is all my fault," Rapunzel said, her chains pressing into his back as she tried to hug him.

"No, it's mine, if I wasn't wanted…" Eugene said, then sighed. No use saying anything else now. At least they'd have each other for a few miserable hours. "Look, I'm sorry."

He heard her take big gulps of air.

Suddenly, they stopped. Whispers swept through the ranks. The captain rode back down to them, a paper in his hand. "It looks like you'll have another escort to the castle, Ryder," he said, and handed it to Eugene.

The words were all smearing off the page, washed by the rain, and as he raised it to read it fell apart in his hands. Still he caught the words "Lady of Dabney" and gulped.

It had to be some kind of curse. Set out to get to the castle, and everything that ever was decides to go wrong. Still, there was some good in this. The threshold had been reached. There could be no worse strike of luck now.


	2. That sun I pray may never set

Thanks for the encouraging reviews! This chapter is a bit different, considering it's all between OCs, but it'll all tie in eventually. By the way, the titles chapter are all from Shakespeare, because I'm snooty like that.

I've always had a fondness for people telling fairytales within stories for morally ambiguous reasons. Enjoy.

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**Chapter 2: That sun I pray may never set**

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl, the most beautiful in all her village. Her family had no overflowing money, but her father kept her inside so as not to ruin her ivory skin. Such a prize went to a worthy bidder. In this way, she found a wonderful husband and her family a large dowry."

"Happily ever after."

"I'm not finished, milord. I was telling of the first Gothel," the lady said, leaning back and gathering her two children in her arms.

She had a pinched face like a fox, delicate complexion, and all the draperies of royalty with none of the elegance to carry them. Now she wore a light blue gown with emeralds fashioned in the bodice, a hairpiece that pulled most of her thick black hair into a crescent.

The youngest boy reached for an emerald, pressed his cheek to it to feel its cold. His brother tried to escape her grasp and struggled toward the man.

The man standing in front of them, wrapped in a fur hood, bowed his head. He had a freshly shaven face, auburn hair, bright blue eyes like gems balanced on his high cheekbones, and a frail beauty that could not be swallowed by the thick robes he was wearing.

"My apologies, princess," the man said. "Continue."

Her face flushed, but it was barely visible in the light of the fire. "Ah, well. The girl married a prince, and she lived in a castle. They loved each other very much and—"

The older wiggled out of her grasp. "Had two wonderful sons like us, I know, mom! Lemme go practice with his lordship, pleaaaase?"

She smacked him upside the head. "That's very rude. His lordship just stopped by and is in no mood for games, and I was talking."

The little one snickered.

"Smack him too," the man said, and turned to leave.

"Wait," the lady put a hand out. "Favian, please."

He came, kneeled down, collected the hand, kissed it. "If the princess requires…"

They looked at each other. She breathed deeply, then, never losing eye contact, kept on. "She loved being princess…and then queen…and most of all, mother. The kingdom loved her. But when her son reached the age of a young man and went out hunting, an accident took him away from her."

She hugged the children tighter.

Her voice filled with reverence and sadness. She didn't look at the lord any longer, but out into the distant past. "Her father sheltered her and told her nothing of the town. Her husband hid from her all sorrow. She knew of death, but didn't understand it. All day, she asked the servants to bring her boy back to her. The queen wished to send expeditions, and appealed to her king's court."

"They…" Favian cleared his throat, and then, when she made no objection, continued. "They believed her mad. No one would help her. She decided to leave and do it herself. They made the king let her, said it was for the best. She swore she would find the man who took her son away. She'd beat him."

"Did she?" the oldest child asked.

The lady ruffled his hair. "Does anyone?"

"The king found that without her, he could not be," Favian said. "He took his one remaining son. He left the palace to the court."

"And thus the shelter of beauty destroyed a kingdom," the lady finished. "That is why we grew up away from here, because she is my ancestor and yours. Now go to sleep."

"But we already heard that one," the older boy said, suppressing a yawn.

She shook her head. "You promised. Do you need his Lordship to escort you?"

Mumbling and shaking their heads, the two children shuffled off. The older waved to Favian.

"Goodbye, princes," he said.

He got up, closed the door, and turned to face the princess.

"Milady Gothel," he said.

She rose. "Don't say anything, please." Cautiously, weighed down by her dress, she glided over to him and put a hand out. He reached for it to kiss, but she pulled his fur hood down.

His arm snaked around her waist, and she leaned into him.

"You don't know how you've saved me," she whispered into the richly embroidered fabric of his vest. "The future you've given us, will you ever understand? Before you came and took me away, I…"

Two sharp knocks resounded on the door.

Quickly, she untangled herself from him and swept back to the fireplace, sitting down and folding her hands in her lap.

Favian smoothed his vest, put his hood up again, and opened the door.

The woman before him cut a beautiful figure in the light from the corridor, her purple dress lined with pearls, her dark brown hair flowing out from under the glittering gold crown resting on her head. Her full lips pursed in a small smile, almost unnoticeable if not for the amused glimmer in her bright green eyes.

Favian bowed deeply.

"I was told you'd be here," she said, then turned to Gothel. "Good evening, princess. Mind if I borrow him?"

Gothel stood, bowed again. "Of course not."

The two women stared at each other. Gothel averted her eyes first, causing the other's smile to widen.

"It makes me very happy to see you adjusting so well, princess," the lady said, taking Favian by the arm. "We are simply too good to you. If you need anything from me, call for a servant."

The lord opened the door. "Come, milady of Dabney."

She giggled and batted at his hand. "Charmer."

It was for show and they both knew it. Once they left, she led him to her chambers, locked the door, and then the smile melted straight off her face.

"Really, milord. With her children there. I thought we were going to be the slightest bit more careful about this."

"I have been nothing but careful and you know it."

"Sorry, sorry," she collapsed in a plush chair and pushed it against the scarlet wall with her feet. "I might be a little…snappish tonight. Everything is happening so fast."

"You sent out the order."

"Three days ago, but this morning—a messenger from Corona, saying they'd captured Flynn Ryder and were planning to hang him the day after the lanterns."

He sighed. "Thank god."

She made a face. "He's still useful, milord. I want him alive."

"He'll hardly be thrilled about your terms. Even if you get him here, there's going to be a battle." Favian sat on her grand, four-poster bed, its canopy dripping with white silk.

"That's not your problem. So," the lady rose, and languidly made her way to the bed, towering over him. "How is our Princess Gothel?"

"Princess Gothel is convinced I'm her savior. She's, well, more innocent. Than I thought."

The Lady of Dabney sat down next to him. "See to it that she comes to you, always."

He suddenly took her hand.

"What's this now?" she asked, smiling only a little.

"I'm afraid. He started everything. No one is as loyal to you as I, milady. But he's a wanted thief now. You can't afford to make mistakes."

He tried to kiss her.

She wrenched her hand from his and turned away. "No."

"What?"

"No. Leave me and spend the night with Princess Gothel."

He groaned. "You don't expect—"

"With all due respect, milord, you are a mistake I would much rather she make than I."

Favian rose. "With all due respect, milady of Dabney, he's dead now. Good night."

He slammed the door. She sunk down, lay on her bed, breathing hard. Flynn Ryder had gotten out of everything so far. He'd be here.

She felt him, with every little shaking breath she took, running from the guards. Heartbeats and hoofbeats and—his smoldering eyes and careful hands on her, becoming the legend.

To be honest, yes, it stung that he'd abandoned her. It hurt that he'd passed up the chance for wealth beyond imagination, for their love, to go around stealing and carousing and generally shaming her entire movement. But she couldn't help but feel a sort of sick pride.

She'd created Flynn Ryder. No matter what happened now, Flynn Ryder was unstoppable.

And he'd created the Lady of Dabney. Whatever happened to or because of that nit Gothel, she'd still been free, for a few short, beautiful, terrible years.

Now she'd have him back. And it would all be exactly as they planned.


	3. In the sun under the dovehouse

Again, thank you for the reviews. I know things might be confusing, but it's all going to be explained. The next chapter gets back to Eugene and Rapunzel, I promise.

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Chapter 3: In the sun under the dove-house**

King Silas felt more a ruler here in the garden than he'd ever on a throne. He sat at his chair, a comfortably simple iron soldier at its post so long plants grabbed at his legs.

As the world started to light again, the thick, earthy smell of rain hung in the air. There could be no better day to drink in his little garden—everything lush and green and living like no tomorrow, from the tiny clusters of bluebells to majestically sculpted bushes, rolling like waves around his oasis.

Right in front of him, a line of pretty golden flowers began to perk up after the rain.

The queen had insisted on planting the seeds. They both knew nothing would grow but these blossoms that smelled like somewhat like warmth, a little like sweat, and very much like life.

They'd used every last drop of magic. The descendants of the queen's savior weren't quite so gifted.

At least…they had the crown back now. He'd make sure it was safe. He owed it to Clarissa, dear Clarissa. If she'd ever come home, her crown would be waiting for her. No one could track down the sorceress who stole her, or the princess herself, but he'd gotten those buffoons to rescue her sundamn crown, at least.

No problems. At least he'd done something proactive this year. The crown was safe and Flynn Ryder would be made an example of.

A light purple flag suddenly flared out of the highest tower.

The guards were back. They'd captured Ryder and they would bring him here. The king didn't talk much, but he had a wealth of information for the man. "Isn't the garden beautiful today?" he would ask. "It's not the outside expanse, but a little bit of it left for me. Would you trample the flowers, pull up the grass, leave my little bit of happiness brown and dead?"

Then he'd pluck a golden bud, crush it in his hands.

"This is a glorious day to die, Ryder," he'd whisper. "And I assure you it won't be my dreams at the gallows this time."

He sighed.

No, it wouldn't go like that. He'd see the thief and every recess in his bones would brim with hatred and despair, but then he'd touch the scoundrel's head and say, voice as tired as his spirit, "I hope my daughter can forgive you, someday. I hope I can."

There wouldn't be a trace of malice there.

He'd fail her again.

Now the Captain ran in, maneuvering the king's little obstacle course with ease. Carefully dodging each row of flowers, he came to a stop before Silas, kneeled, bowed his head.

"Your majesty, my men captured Ryder. We were transporting him here when…"

There was a pause that wrapped fingers around the king's neck. As it grew longer he felt its sharp fingernails slowly sink into his throat.

"Well?" he asked.

"We got an order from the Lady of Dabney requesting we release him to her forces or she would cease her support of us and forbid our ships from touching her land."

Of course.

Linore of Dabney had always been the wild card in this whole mess. Flynn Ryder would have been murdered by thugs or jaded ex-partners long ago without his title, but her unusual silence this past year had given Silas a false sense of hope. He'd prayed she had her hands too full with the Gothel heir.

"Captain," he said slowly, choosing his words one at a time. "Captain, he…absconded his lordship long ago."

The captain shook, taking deep breaths. "Your majesty, I didn't know what to do—"

"She is weak with him. You've seen it."

"Our alliance—"

King Silas stood, began to walk down a row of flowers. The beautiful smells and sights only jarred him more. "I refuse to support a kingdom lorded by a rouge."

He turned, paced back. "Send a message to Dabney. Make sure it reaches her. No one else."

The captain nodded, not daring to look up.

"Tell her: I'll always support her. I have faith in her good judgment. Keep Ryder contained, or else. I'll visit Dabney so we may sort this out…privately."

The captain rose. "I'll go arrange for a messenger."

"Good man."

Silas sat back down. In a moment he would muster up the courage to go face his court and tell them he was leaving for Dabney in the middle of a fierce debate on sun-knows-what issue with the peasants. Sometimes he thought he really was as weak as they believed him.

Light padding footsteps.

A delicate hand traced the curve of his back. He relaxed into Gayle's touch. "Silas," she whispered. "Are you awake? I have something to tell you."

He stood, turned, saw her standing in her dark yellow velvet gown, the important one, and wearing her queen's crown.

She saw the confusion on his face and looked down. "I'm—"

He put a hand out and she fell silent. "No, I have something to tell _you_," he said. "Ryder was claimed by Dabney."

She shook her head.

That infuriated him, how she could stand there and let everything wash over her like water, leave her clean, while he drowned. "I know you don't care, dearest. But this complicates relations—"

She breathed deeply. "Silas, I…"

Then she touched her stomach.

"You're…"

She nodded, her eyes closing as she breathed in and out. For Gayle, it was something akin to crying. "Finally."

He wrapped her in his arms, and she was shaking. From sickness or emotion, he wasn't sure.

Or maybe it was him crumbling in her embrace. He'd waited so many years. For a time, Gayle wouldn't even touch him—she watched the windows and on her lips traced "Clarissa, Clarissa" over and over again. Then he had his campaign and shortly after the diplomatic journey. Together they'd taken years. By the time they were able to be near each other for any length of time, it looked like they were too old to even dream.

"You and our child are safe, I promise," he said, breathing in the musk of the gown, the perfume in her hair. "I'll make sure. We won't need any more lanterns."

She shook her head. "I know you, and you don't need to start right now. Silas, please don't follow him to Dabney."

"It's not a choice."

"A diplomatic necessity, you already sent the messenger, I know," she sighed, then collapsed against him. "There it is again. Help me into the chair, please."

He gingerly set her down.

"But dear, don't make a mistake. Don't make me worry, it's bad for the baby. I'm so tired of this vendetta."

How could he ever think of—

Nothing mattered now. He kneeled before her, took her hand. "Yes. You're right. About everything."

"Oh, and Silas?"

He kissed her hand. "It doesn't matter anymore."

She grinned. "Quite. Tell that strumpet Dabney she can go ahead and kill the last Lady Gothel. After one shares the bed of a thief, there are few depths left to sink to."

He chuckled into the back of her palm. "Dearest, you are king over me."

"Forever and always," she whispered.


	4. Grow fair against the sun

As promised, a return to the princess and her jerkass, er, I mean rouge. Hopefully the cute here will be enough to make the stuff that's going to happen later on less depressing. Oh, who am I kidding?

However, this isn't an AU. It goes from Rapunzel and Flynn leaving the tower to her being presented as the lost princess with the group hug. The ending's set, but the journey along the way isn't so Disney-tastic.

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**Chapter 4: Grow fair against the sun**

Dabney was the place across the water, where she'd almost been kidnapped by those two thugs that didn't like Eugene, right?

Rapunzel wanted to ask, but it would be bad if the guards heard her and Eugene didn't look in the talking mood anyway. He'd gripped Max's reins so tight she could see the veins straining on the back of his hand, and he hadn't looked at her in ages.

He kept looking at the guards, who spent most of their time looking at him. They probably thought he would bolt. A part of her wanted him to.

She'd thought a lot about escaping. On the boat ride, she'd considered diving into the water until she remembered her hair couldn't light the way anymore. When they'd gone through some exceedingly thick forest it was easy to imagine slipping off, hiding behind a tree.

After the tower, it seemed like nothing could scare her, but something about this made her want to cry.

These people looked different. Their hair was darker, their skin pale, and they wore smooth silver plates of armor with flowing brown robes bursting from the chinks. They didn't talk much, and they didn't seem happy.

But more importantly, they were making Eugene upset.

"Um…" she raised her hand. At least she didn't have to wear those chains anymore. "How long till we reach Dabney?"

"We'll stop tonight at an inn, and make camp tomorrow night, and by the third day we should be there," one of the guards said.

She looked to Eugene. Held him a little tighter. Finally, he looked back, and his face asked, "What, blondie?".

The guard coughed. "Hurry _up_, Ryder."

Then Eugene turned back and gave Max a little kick, earning an angry whinny.

Poor Max. She'd find an apple for him when they stopped. He didn't deserve to be here.

She pressed herself into Eugene's back, trying to get warm. As the sun slowly sunk behind the trees, it got colder and colder. Her teeth started to grind against each other, very quickly. She put her hand to her mouth and held her jaw to stop them.

"She's cold," Eugene said. His voice sounded scratchy. When no one answered, he got louder. "She's cold. Someone help her."

They stopped, and one of the guards produced a brown robe from his satchel. Eugene helped her get into it. It was far too big, but at least the thick fabric covered her arms and neck.

Eugene placed her back on Max, which was super hard because the robe made her slick. Once they were riding again, she tried to sit so as much of the robe could touch him as possible. He had to be cold, too.

"So, Ryder, recognize the area?" the guard from before asked.

Eugene didn't answer.

"You were a blabbermouth back at the fortress, what's changed?" The guard grinned. He had the most jagged face she'd ever seen, and a stupid little moustache that was a lighter brown than his hair. It made his mouth seem twice as big.

"Don't you remember me? You nicknamed me Madman Montgomery. I'm assistant captain, now."

If Eugene cared about Mr. Montgomery, he didn't show it. That wasn't very nice of him to call the guard that, though. Gothel had talked about madmen to her a few times. They were wild and wrong, she said, because they didn't have barriers.

Was Mr. Montgomery a madman?

Now, she watched him. He kept looking at Eugene—angry to not receive recognition or envy. His moustache twitched like a tiny sick caterpillar clinging to his lip. He hunched over his horse. Mr. Montgomery had something dangerous about him, what Gothel taught her to sense, but…it seemed calculated, put on. Like a mask. He only had to loosen it and he'd just be prideful, not unstable.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Montgomery," she said.

Eugene turned. "Rapunzel—"

"You're a darling," Mr. Montgomery said, or more like snorted. "I imagine you think the Lady'll be impressed by this one, Ryder."

"If you want me to cooperate, look to her first," Eugene said. "I got her into this mess, and I intend to make it as comfortable of a mess for her as possible."

A call came from the ranks. "What the hell are you doing back there, Madman?"

"I'm catching up."

"Like hell you are. This isn't social hour. We're almost near the rest point and we can't waste time."

Eugene muffled a laugh behind his fist. She gave his chest a quick squeeze. That meant he was feeling better now, right? Maybe Mr. Montgomery being here wasn't so bad.

Eventually, they stopped at an inn. "Madman!" the captain barked, and Mr. Montgomery saluted, then went up to the door and knocked.

The innkeeper opened the door. "Good affernoon, gents," he said, but as it registered they were soldiers, his smile became more fake. "But we're afull."

Mr. Montgomery rocked on his heels, hunched a little, then touched his moustache once. The tone of his voice kept slipping, like he couldn't decide how he wanted to say the words.

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," he said. "After all, no one wants to be tied to a post with their dogs and left to spend the cold, cold night out here. Though there are some lovely stars this time of year, and you missed the lanterns from Corona two days ago."

"No ser, I see em," the innkeeper said. "There'd be room for soldiers awways here."

Mr. Montgomery nodded, then turned. "Let's in, boys."

The soldiers quickly took over the inn. It looked a lot like the Snuggly Duckling, but the people seemed more tired than malicious. They all trooped upstairs and the captain herded the soldiers, five per room, until there were two rooms left on the floor.

The captain told Rapunzel she got a room by herself, so she went in and closed the door. Everything was wood. The bed, the cabinets, the floors, the walls. There was a nice framed picture of the innkeeper making some sort of vaguely welcoming gesture with his hand over the bed.

She was about to spread her robe on the bed to go to sleep when she heard Mr. Montgomery and Eugene arguing.

Rapunzel pressed herself to the door to hear them better.

"Looks like you bunk with me, Ryder," Mr. Montgomery said.

"The girl's never spent a night alone in her life," Eugene said. He said something else, but quieter, so she couldn't figure out what.

"I have orders—"

"No, Madman, you have Linore to face."

She could almost see Mr. Montgomery's moustache bristle. "Yes. That as well and that most importantly."

She heard Eugene give a hissing sigh. "And you won't take my word."

"No one would, Ryder. Personally, it's stupid of you to even ask. She's a cloyingly dewy thing, I'll give you that, but in three days—"

"I'm not—okay, how about this. If I go to bed with her, I'll do whatever Linore says. Whatever you say."

A long pause. What were they talking about? Why did this Linore person not want them talking, or whatever?

Then Eugene opened the door. "Evening, Rapunzel," he said, trying to look happy. "What a stiff. Guess we can be roommates now, though."

She bit her lip.

"What is it?" he asked.

He might get upset if she tried to talk about it, but something just wasn't adding up and it made her angry not to know what was going on. Besides, they trusted each other, right? She was his dream, he'd said.

Out with it, she told herself. Big breath and out with it.

"Who's Linore?"

"Oh," he said. He put his hand to his face and rubbed his brow, but she could see he was trying to hide his expression from her. "Oh sun above. Linore is…the ruler of Dabney. She wants to see me, that's why we're being dragged here."

Rapunzel realized just how tired she was from riding in that moment, so she sat on the bed. "Why?"

Eugene raised his head then, and she saw his face. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Don't tell me," she said quickly. "If you don't want to."

He sighed. "I do, but…thanks. What happens after this, please don't think bad of me—"

"I won't! I—"

"Don't promise—"

She smiled. No one had ever told her not to promise something before. Gothel always asked over and over again, never happy until things were set in stone.

No matter what was going on, that made it all better, to know Eugene wasn't trying to manipulate or hurt her. "Okay."

"Thanks for…coming along. I know everyone thinks I'm using you."

She sprang up, and ran forward to hug him.

He felt warm and smelled like horse but it was okay. Had she ever noticed how big he was before? It felt like, well, like she fit. Like he was shaped in just the right way so they could hold each other and it would be the most natural thing in the world.

"Okay, okay," he pushed her away, slightly. "You're…this is going to sound stupid. I sound stupid around you." He sighed. "No one would ever do this for me, before."

"How is that stupid? You're the only person to ever care about me, Eugene."

And suddenly he cupped her chin, bringing her face up to meet his and kissing her.

In the rush of everything that happened after, she'd forgotten just how good that felt. She'd had a book, once, of fairy tales, where the prince and princess made this sort of thing by the end, a different kind of love. It was her favorite, and then she'd tried to swing from her hair to get down from the tower, and Gothel had taken it away forever as punishment.

Now she lived that world.

He pulled away. "Was that alright?" Eugene asked.

She nodded, and then smiled wider than she'd ever, without knowing why.

"Good, good," he said, and sat down. "Sometimes I forget you were raised in a tower and all. If I move too fast, let me know."

She sat down right next to him. "Can we do it again?"

He looked happy with the idea, but before she could kiss him his expression clouded over and he looked away. "Later, I guess."

"Is this about Lyora?"

"Linore?"

She nodded.

He scratched at the back of his neck. "A little, yeah. I've done some things before, stuff that I knew was wrong. I wanted to start over, you know, as Eugene."

She was about to tell him she didn't care when she realized…

Oh no!

Rapunzel sprang up. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't think—"

His eyes widened. "What? What happened?"

"We were…on the bed together, like the guy said you couldn't, so you'll be tied to Linore, it's all my fault, I shouldn't have sat next to you!"

Instead of being angry, he got all red in the face and started stuttering. "Um, no, that isn't what, er, it's fine. That wasn't the deal. You can, um, sit down again."

What was wrong with his face? She'd only seen Pascal make his skin that color. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he croaked out. "I'll explain—later."

"Promise?"

He suddenly took to staring at the wall. "Sure…"

Okay, everything in due time. She sat back down, scooted over to him. "Then can you kiss me again?"

"Let's go to sleep, okay? Please."


	5. To spy my shadow in the sun

Oy, have I been bad. I kept meaning to write on this, but a lot of things have gotten in the way. For one, I'm sick and have a lot of things related to that. For another, I had a wee touch of writers block. So I'm sorry for not updating sooner.

* * *

**Chapter 5: To spy my shadow in the sun**

Wood walls. Bed. Lying on a bed. Something tinier and curvier nestled into his chest. Flynn Ryder knew this to be the exact time to bolt before the relatives/husband/etc. of whoever it was got sharp things and waved them in his face.

Eugene Fitzherbert remembered they still wore clothing.

Rapunzel gave a feathery little snore and rolled over, crushing his arm. He slid away from her. The blood rushed to his head and made little orange storm clouds in his vision as he sat up, and didn't clear off until he had his boots on.

What time was it? How was he supposed to tell without a window?

Best not wake her up until he can determine it wasn't his thief-senses thinking a creak is a cutthroat at three in the morning.

He went to the door, tested it. Locked from the outside. No respectable inns should have rooms you can lock from the outside. He hated today already.

He rapped twice on the wood. An arm struggling to stay afloat in a mass of brown fabric swung it open.

Thank sun, it wasn't Madman, but some new recruit absolutely glistening behind the ears. With his big forehead and spaced, set eyes, he looked like a badger if you squinted. Earlier on, he'd singled this one out as a crumpling type, and if there happened to be a situation, one to grab first.

Now the crumpling type stuck a pike in his face. His arms shook, causing the blade to vibrate.

"I like my eyes a lot," Eugene said.

"You aren't allowed out until we leave," the guard said.

"Okay."

The guard took the pike away, rapped it on the ground twice. "This is still my watch and I will protect you and keep you here as I see fit."

Was this guy for real? Hell, if one of the men so much as looked at Rapunzel in a mean way, he oughta get the badger in a death grip and screaming. Easiest. Escape. Ever. "Wouldn't dream of impeding on your duties, good sir. I just wanted to know…the time…"

"It's morning. We're leaving soon."

A call came from the bed. "Eugene?"

He slammed the door in the guard's face. "Hey," he said to Rapunzel. "Sorry he woke you up."

She sat up. "It's okay," she said, but "okay" turned to a yawn halfway through.

"They'll come for us in a second, the badger said."

She tilted her head to the side. "Badger?"

"The guard outside—the little mousy git, up close he looks—swear his eyes aren't speaking to each other, is it me or what? He looks like a badger."

"Nicknames aren't nice, Eugene," she said, then collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"We both know I'm no good for you," he said, and considered adding in The Smolder but that would be overdoing it a tad and he doesn't want to explain last night to her yet.

So instead he waited, making small talk with her and flirting lightly, although he wasn't sure she knew it. Finally the badger opened the door and said he'd escort them to the others through gritted teeth, a vein on the side of his neck beating a tattoo onto his skin.

He'd heard.

They were being listened to.

He needed to go cuss out Madman, right now. Eugene took a deep breath, kissed Rapunzel on the forehead, grabbed the front of the badger's cloak, and shoved him up against the wall.

"Madman. Where is he?"

The guard did a funny thing with his lips, like he wanted to bare his teeth but it turned into a whimper halfway through his muscles. "I...oh s…sun, I…he…don't—"

Eugene tightened his grip and watched the guard squirm, until Rapunzel's hand lighted on his back, and she spread her fingers. Okay, okay. He heard her loud and clear. Sheesh, try to take out pent-up frustration with a little brutal threat nowadays and everyone gets up in arms about it.

The guard skittered away, and someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned, and there stood Madman.

Aside from that ugly little moustache, he hadn't changed a bit. One lick of hair still sat higher than the rest, his forced smile revealed how the teeth on his lower jaw had been shoved haphazardly wherever they may fit. Madman still wore his clothing like he dressed five minutes in the dark because he thought it made him mysterious and impulsive.

"You're not prisoners," Madman said. "It is possible to—" then he lost his grip on his voice, and it took a dive into deep, irritated, growling territory. "—ask."

Eugene gritted his teeth. "You listened."

"If you thought I'd just take your word—"

"Um…" Rapunzel said, in a small voice.

He sighed. "Forget it."

Madman bowed. "I'm sorry, milord."

That word wounded more than any jibe or beating. And, worse, he felt Rapunzel's hand fall away from his arm.

Swell.

As they rode that day, he could see gears grinding in her head every time he turned to look at her. After what seemed like forever, she finally piped up and asked, "What are you the lord of?"

"Since I met you? Stupid decisions."

She swatted at him. "Mr. Montgomery said—"

"'Mr. Montgomery' conveniently forgot I waved all that away ages ago." Then again, Madman had called him milord since he started sleeping with the Lady of the castle. Why should never taking the title and a few years as a wanted thief stop the pike-up-his-ass now?

"Is lord like…prince? Or knight?"

"Dabney is not considered a kingdom, but a possession," the captain of the guards said. "All our lords on the council that rule with the supreme Lord and Lady are descended from peasant elders. The lands grew vast enough to merit a government, and were supplied one. But they're not chosen by the sun as Corona's rulers are."

"I know the history, I'll tell her," Eugene said, and took a deep breath. Best get this over with. "Dabney did have a king and queen, once, appealed to the heavens, sun winks at them, whole nine yards. But they started a long-running tradition of leaving the post vacant, went and lived in seclusion."

"Um…like…a tower and everything?" Rapunzel asked.

She didn't have a frame of reference at all, did she? "Uh, no, a house and some servants. Occasionally a guard goes and asks them if they'd pretty please like to come back. I heard a rumor in the Snuggly Duckling they've got the princess at the castle now, but that's usually hogwash."

"Nope," another soldier with a voice lower than should be human said. "True."

Well, that'd slipped his notice. "True? Hokay. Anyway, because of that, the Lord is a little more disposable, if you get my drift. The council has a lot of say in that and cracks it like a bullwhip over whomever's head. Right now we just have a Lady."

"Linore?" Rapunzel asked.

She said it so effortlessly, like it was a girl's name instead of its true meaning. Then again, she'd yet to learn of the baggage it carried.

"Linore, Lady of Dabney, next topic," he said quickly. "Sure is soggy out today, right boys? Mighty soggy. Might have something to do with all the rain before, don't you think? I heard a few of you predicting more rain today, with the gathering clouds and all that, but I say—no! No more rain! Care to debate?"

He heard Rapunzel's eyes roll behind him.

As they get closer and closer, he started to recognize places. A tree he practiced archery on when he was trying out different tricks for Flynn (he'd sucked.) A bar he'd passed out in, tears running down his face, murmuring things about her hair and all the money he could've had. Different clearings he'd stopped in hunting with Madman.

He almost saw them, young, tiny-beard and tinier-moustache-less, poking at a deer and talking at the speed of light about things he couldn't remember anymore. Things he doubted he'd ever cared about.

Rapunzel, curse her extra sense in all things regarding him, began to hold him closer. He felt her breath on his back. The lucky girl didn't have miles and miles of memories, just one big dark blotch of a tower she'd never go back to.

Still, when she held him it almost seemed as if she understood.

And there it was.

The castle.

Madman helped Rapunzel down, accepted her coo of "Thank you, Mr. Montgomery!" with an infuriating smile, and slapped him on the back.

"Go, ride in there" his voiced dipped, soared, then dipped again for "and meet your wife."

For the first time in, Eugene wished he was back in the tower with the dagger stinging in his stomach. Back being led to the gallows. Anywhere but here. Flynn Ryder went where he wanted to, and if it made him uncomfortable to stay, he'd be on the other side of Corona before you could say "free spirit".

Eugene Fitzherbert was an idiot.

An idiot whose dream now looked at him like he killed her birthday and left its carcass on her front step.

Well, you had to see the shadow before the sun, right?

Right?


	6. The sun breeds maggots

This was...interesting. Writing from Madman's POV, I mean. But I do keep skipping around. By the end, even badger-face is going to have his own characterization and POV chapter!

(That was joking. I actually have absolutely no idea what's going to happen. Or very little, to be honest.)

**

* * *

Chapter 6: The sun breeds maggots**

This beautiful room was one of Madman's favorites. He loved the jewel green walls, all the furniture edged and accented with silver. Loved seeing himself curved on the corners of the chairs, on the frame of a painting of the first Lord of Dabney.

He'd been tromping around the land too long. Standing here every humor in him calmed. This castle had created him, and he'd no reason to leave the womb. Wanderlust could be nothing but delusion.

"Married?"

Madman turned, saw the little imp's eyes widen more, if possible. She grabbed his sleeve, tugged. "He's married? How did that happen?"

A bottle of old nice wine—not the words "I love you" but "I will leave you"—each of them whispering that curse coldly then falling into each other's arms—her always-careful hands tracing over three-days-dry blood stains on a desk—he shivering like she touched the parts of him in them—

"If anyone tells you it should be him," Madman said.

She looked like he'd punched her in the stomach. He wanted to.

This girl with her ugly short hair and freckles was the force that made Eugene docile and self-sacrificing throughout the journey? She couldn't be more than fourteen, and from their conversation last night, less mature than that.

Her lip quivered, those giant green eyes filling with tears. "But I'm…his dream."

Thank the sun, the door swung open before he started retching. Curse the sun, his rescuer was Lord Favian.

Favian smiled slightly, but his expression didn't reach his eyes. "Always loitering here, aren't you? Is this the girl I'm fetching?"

"The very same," Madman said. "Madam—" her name, it sat on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't for the life of him— "Um, madam…"

"Rapunzel."

As in, the onion? Even her parents must have hated her.

"Madam Rapunzel, this is Lord Favian, keeper of the Emerald area of Dabney, the original kingdom before expansion, and one of five High Lords of the Keepers."

Favian took her hand, ran a finger down the space between her knuckles to her wrist, then raised it to his lips. "Delighted, Madam Rapunzel. I've been sent to see your stay is as comfortable as possible and as long as you want it to be."

Spending all those evenings standing next to the Lady, rigidly guarding her as if the some lord actually might dare to draw a weapon in court, Madman learned how Favian's mouth traced words differently when he lied, and he was lying.

She blushed."I…I'm staying as long as Eugene is."

He led her to a mirror-embellished chair. "Then we're glad to have you. Come, sit down."

Once, Favian looked at him like that—Madman just back from a trip with a scar on his shoulder and a medal for bravery—Favian newly the youngest High Lord desperately trying to show strength and readiness when he never possessed either—a long conversation, Favian's eyes on him always—when Madman realized he wasn't listening—breaking down, maybe, but listening—no—

Favian's hands alighted on the girl's shoulders—she stuttered and tried to get a grasp on the nonexistent details of her pretend history—his fingers tangled in her hair—leaned in, whispered words in each groove of her ear—

Madman wanted to shout—tell her—that isn't—the calm peace on his face, it's not there, you have to break it before you see skin—

Madman's mind cleared. The trajectory finished right as Favian's interview drew to a close.

"That sounds wonderful, Madam Rapunzel," Favian said.

Madman focused on breathing.

Favian helped her up, and gave her to Madman. The imp linked her arm in his, and as Favian led her to the princess's quarters, started to chatter at him.

"Thank you for helping me here, Mr. Montgomery. Everyone's so nice, I don't know why Eugene left this place! He said he had an explanation, so I'll wait. Mr., um, Lord Favian says I can see him, so I'll ask him then. You knew Eugene when he lived here, right? Did he call himself Flynn then?"

He might as well humor her. If he told her about the real man, not some soft-voiced prince who talked about dreams and went slow with her, she'd be out of the castle and out of his hair before Favian could tap-dance on her naiveté and get another pawn on the board.

Or the Lady of Dabney might lock her away for existing. He hadn't ruled that out yet.

"Only later on. I grew up with him."

"Did he tell you stories?"

"No."

She faltered at that. He could tell her Eugene boasted instead, saved his stories for the kids at his orphanage but they morphed as he got older into fables of his own deeds.

He didn't.

"Was he a guard too?" she asked.

Favian, travelling behind them, gave a chuckle at that. "Ryder was a servant and part-time stable hand promoted to escort, assistant, and then head servant. And we're here."

He knocked twice on the door. "Princess, there's a girl who wants to lady in waiting for you."

Did she hear?—the imp, her green eyes were they wide enough?—her tiny button of a nose, could it breathe this in?—the way his voice—his voice changed—

Princess Gothel opened the door.

"Milord Favian," she whispered, and the reverence in the sound caused the ends of his moustache to bristle. "Guard Montgomery." Then she turned to Rapunzel. "I am Princess Gothel. You are…?"

The imp drew into herself, and her voice squeaked. "I have to go."

"Montgomery…" Favian said.

Madman caught her arm as she turned.

"There's no need to be intimidated," Gothel said.

Rapunzel jerked away from him. "Let me—"

"This is Lady Rapunzel," Favian said. "She is a wealthy man's runaway daughter from Corona. Flynn Ryder told her he was a lord and she's been travelling with him. Once she figures out the truth and learns how to fend for herself she will return home so as not to worry her parents altogether much."

The imp started crying.

Good sun, was she five?

And why were her tears…the hallway had no window and her tears shone like there was one…

"Montgomery," Favian said, ever softer and more dangerous.

Madman dragged her down the hall while Favian soothed Gothel with a hand brushing too close to her and an unwavering, intense gaze—a gaze like a cage or a spotlight.

Halfway to the room the imp fell into his arms and he had to carry her. She felt so tiny—as if he could snap her like a twig. The material of her dress was old, fine fabric. Like the gown the Lady of Dabney wore on her wedding day and coronation as Lady, back when there was a Lord.

The room, blessedly, had a large couch the color of flesh that he lay her down on. She turned away from him, taking shaky little breaths.

He stood and watched her, feeling two parts exasperated and one part stupid. Cleared his throat. "Madam."

She turned. It hadn't been his imagination. Her tears streaked down her face like beams from the sun. "Gothel."

"That is the princess's name, yes. The one you were rude to."

Her hands slipped into her choppy hair, and she rocked her head back and forth. "She's" high-pitched intake of breath "she's, my," sniffle "mom."

How charming. They had an orphan, a deposed princess, a political uprising, a girl with unknown parentage, a murder, and enough mysterious past to go around. Slap a cover on it and you could sell a cheap new thriller.

The imp babbled still. "I mean," wipe eyes "she's named the same as—" sob "and looks like, but she isn't because I—"

He stood and stared at her and tried to remember what color Eugene's eyes were when he left.

"I don't understand—"

Brown. Stupid brown. An invisible brown, so common on the trees or in hair or mud it might as well not be a color at all.

He cleared his throat. "Princess Gothel has two sons, both young, and lives by herself with her husband. I helped bring her to the castle because the assembly requested her. We told you the history."

She shook her head. "But…"

"She doesn't recognize you and claiming parentage won't get you the throne or Ryder. Now let's get up and face the princess. You do want to be a lady-in-waiting, right?"

"I want to leave," she said into the sofa's cushion.

"I want you to leave," he said to her in his mind. "I want you to leave before someone here can really hurt you or before you and Eugene can fall in love if you haven't already because you both don't deserve each other in your own special ways—"

He didn't open his mouth.

"But mostly I want you to leave because I said to myself a few years ago, alright, I will be a variable—and I think Eugene did too—a pawn, that's okay, but as this all unfolds I want things—you have to say yes—promise me—if you can't promise go away—Eugene doesn't need you—"

"I don't know if the Lady of Dabney will release you," he said instead.

Her hand reached out, took a fistful of pillow, squeezed, released. "Get Eugene."

"Stay here and rest," he said.

She nodded.

Once he was out of the room, once he slammed the door behind him, the path retreated from his mind. Everything came into focus.

He had to talk to Eugene. Because someone would have to babysit Miss Imp, and that someone was not him.

Also, he hadn't punched the ass's face in for years.


End file.
